Celestial Inventories by Steve Rasnic Tem

remaining costumes.
    “I don’t know where else we can try, Laura,” her mother said, sorting through a pile of mismatched costume pieces at a drugstore in a mall. “It’ll be dark in a couple of hours, and so far you haven’t liked a thing I’ve shown you.”
    Laura reached into the pile and pulled out a cheap face mask. The face was that of a middle-aged woman, or a young man, cheeks and lips rouged a bright red, eye shadow dark as a bruise, eyebrows a heavy and coarse dark line.
    “But, honey. Isn’t that a little . . .” Laura shoved the mask into her mother’s hand. “Well, all right.” She picked up a bundle of bright blue cloth from the table. “How about this pretty robe to complete it?” Laura didn’t look at the robe. She just nodded and headed for the door, her face already a mask itself.
    Laura left the house that night after most of the other trick-or-treaters had come and gone. Her interest in Halloween actually seemed less than ever this year; she stayed in her bedroom as goblins and witches and all manner of stunted, warped creatures came to the front door singly and in groups, giggling and dancing and playing tricks on each other. She could see a few of them over on Halloween Street, not going up to any of the houses but rather running up and down the short street close to the houses in
Idareyou
races. But not near as many as in years past.
    Now and then her mother would come up and open her door. “Honey, don’t you want to leave yet? I swear everybody’ll be all out of the goodies if you don’t go soon.” And each time Laura shook her head, still staring out the window, still watching Halloween Street.
    Finally, after most of the other kids had returned to their homes, Laura came down the stairs wearing her best dress and the cheap mask her mother had bought for her. Her father and mother were in the living room, her mother having retrieved the blue robe from the hall closet.
    “She’s wearing her best dress, Ann. Besides, it’s damned late for her to be going out now.”
    Her mother eyed her nervously. “I could drive you, honey.” Laura shook her head.
    “Well OK, just let me cover your nice dress with the robe. Don’t want to get it dirty.”
    “She’s just a kid, for chrissake! We can’t let her decide!” Her father had dropped his newspaper on the floor. He turned his back on Laura so she wouldn’t see his face, wouldn’t know how angry he was with both of them. But Laura knew. “And that
mask
! Looks like a whore’s face! Hell, how can she even see? Can’t even see her eyes under that.” But Laura could see his. All red and sad-looking.
    “She’s doing something normal for a change,” her mother whispered harshly. “Can’t you see that? That’s more important.”
    Without a word Laura walked over and pulled the robe out of her mother ’s arms. After some hesitation, after Laura’s father had stomped out of the room, her mother helped her get it on.
It was much too large, but her mother gasped “How beautiful!”
in exaggerated fashion. Laura walked toward the door. Her mother ran to the door and opened it ahead of her. “Have a good time!” she said in a mock cheery voice. But Laura could see the near panic in the eyes above the distorted grin. Laura left without saying goodbye.
    A few houses down the sidewalk she pulled the robe off and threw it behind a hedge. She walked on, her head held stiff and erect, the mask’s rouge shining bright red in the streetlights, her best dress a soft cream colour in the dimness, stirred lightly by the breeze. She walked on to Halloween Street.
    She stopped on the bridge and looked down into the creek. A young man’s face, a middle-aged woman’s face gazed back at her out of dark water and yellow reflections. The mouth seemed to be bleeding.
    She walked on to Halloween Street. She was the only one there. The only one to see.
    She walked on in her best dress and her shiny mask with eyes no one could see.
    The